


The After

by SumOfAllThings



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Apocolyptic, Aziraphale needs his snek, Bewildered Crowley, Crowley and Aziraphale never met in Eden, Crowley needs a hug, Crowley needs demon lessons, Crowley’s not up for hurting kids, Except it’s not really his fault - he doesn’t know any better...yet, Gabriel needs to piss off, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Solider Aziraphale, dark aziraphale, or anyone, the Apocalypse happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumOfAllThings/pseuds/SumOfAllThings
Summary: He wasn’t expecting the principality to throw the sword at him; he flew back in shock, giving the angel ample opportunity to act. Crowley cried out in equal measures of panic and pain when he and the angel collided. They grappled as they fell and the demon realised with a pang of terror that when they hit the ground it was going to really hurt - possibly badly enough to discorporate him. He couldn’t go below, not after what he had done. Not yet.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)/Gabriel (one sided)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley was in so much trouble. After six thousand years on earth he’d experienced unimaginable atrocities - he’d seen empires rise and fall and millions of people die in the great flood.

None of it compared to the horrors of Armageddon. Crowley was woefully unprepared for war. He remembered all the fighting the first time around, before he fell. It had been bad…his fighting skills were laughingly pathetic. His vices were subtler - Crowley had an imagination and a tendency to question the norm - a terrible sin, apparently.

At least the first time the humans - painfully delicate and mortal - weren’t involved. Watching so many die was the worst experience of his long and tragic life. Especially the kids. Children shouldn’t be punished for simply existing.

And of course, both sides treated the humans as little more than an obstacle, standing in the way of their ability to discoporate one another.

How could She condone her children being caught in the crossfire, being treated so cruelly? What was the point of it all, really?

“Come here,” he whispered gently, attempting to keep his panic at bay as he gestured the little one towards his hiding spot. “Come on sweetnesssssss, come to me.”

“Have you s-seen my mum?” she whispered, rubbing her dirt-streaked face with equally dirty hands. She was a tiny thing, probably no older than seven or eight.

“No little one,” he said softly. “But I promise to try to help you find her.” And he truly would try, though he suspected his intentions would be for nought. They might have been separated, but it was far more unlikely that her mother was already dead.

Thankfully his promise did the trick and she stumbled towards him, her young face full of trauma and pain. Crowley held out his arms, desperate for her to hurry.

“Look at that,” an unfamiliar voice simpered from the mouth of the alleyway. “Looks like it’s lunch time.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes closed and silently cursed her above with every iota of his being. He stepped out of the shadows and forced a compulsion on the girl, urging her to run.

“Hey guys,” he drawled, purposefully drawing their attention. He didn’t know either of them, but they had the familiar, clogging essence of the truly corrupt. “How’s it hanging?”

They recognised him - everyone always did. He was infamous after all, and not just because of the whole Eden apple fiasco.

“It’s the serpent,” the taller, thinner of the two simpered, nudging his lumbering friend. “I’d know him anywhere. The traitor,” his red irises glinted maliciously. “His darkness is looking for you.”

“Really?” Crowley asked, placing his hands in his pockets as he made a show of stepping causally towards them, ensuring their focus remained locked on him. “ _Wee-ell_ , it’s nice to be wanted I suppose.”

The bigger one blinked sluggishly, his reptilian eyes locked on the slighter demons approach. He smiled, showing an impressive set of fangs. Crowley wondered idly if they were poisonous. “Come ‘ere snake,” he hissed.

Crowley considered them both. The girl had disappeared - it was time to go. He unfurled his wings and sprung into the air. The last thing in the world he expected was a stunning force to send him slamming back to earth. He threw his wings up to ward away an attack and felt a shock of panic when a spotless pair of pale leather boots landed worryingly close to his face.

He looked up slowly and realised he was staring at the Arch Angel Michael. “ _Ngk_ ,” he wheezed, instinctively winching in his wings to make himself a smaller target.

“You, stay there,” she ordered primly, stepping over him like he was nothing and walking confidently towards the gaping demons.“And who might you be?” she asked them disinterestedly.

_Not good, not good_ he thought frantically. He sat on his knees, preparing to bolt when a second presence landed just behind him. Crowley felt his eyes go wide - he knew that Angel.

“Who the fuck are you?” the big demon demanded.

“Idiot,” Crowley hissed. You didn't challenge an archangel, especially not Michael.

The blonde Angel -Aziraphale - frowned down at him. He looked equal parts flustered and disapproving. He was holding a flaming sword, which was thankfully pointed away from Crowley.

Despite himself Crowley threw a little wave in response. He wasn’t really sure what possessed him to do it, but Aziraphale‘s lip twitched into an answering smile before he remembered himself and stood to attention.

“I hardly think that matters,” Michael drawled, revealing her own, non-flaming sword. “Though if you must know, my name is Michael.”

Crowley saw the moment the penny dropped. The smaller demon hissed and fell back, clearly preparing to bolt. Michael threw her sword at him, cleathing him in two.

“I’m going to be sick,” Crowley blurted out. EvenAziraphale looked a little green around the gills.

The bigger one gaped at his discorporated friend before releasing a booming roar and attacking. He made it less than two feet before Michael clicked her fingers and a blinding white light enveloped the demon from above. He started screaming and the distinct stench of burning flesh filled the air before he too discorporated into nothing.

Crowley stared at the space where the two demons had been standing.

_Had_ being the operative work.   
  


“That was quick,” he blurted unthinkingly. 

He was going to be destroyed and when he went back to hell they were going to make him wish for sweet oblivion.

“For goodness sake Aziraphale, do please hold onto him.”

“Oh, oh yes of course,” the blonde Angel quickly took Crowley’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Now don’t try anything, you wily serpent.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Crowley whispered, his eyes fixed on Michael.

He stood ramrod still as she reached out and removed his glasses, taking care to touch them as little as possible. “Well, it’s definitely you,” she remarked primly. She dropped the glasses and kicked them away. “My-my, you have been causing some trouble, haven’t you?”

“Wot, me?” he forced a smile he didn’t remotely feel, flinching a little when she abruptly caught his wrist. “Going to discorporated me then?” he asked through gritted teeth.

She raised her eyebrow and quite suddenly Crowley felt white hot pain where she was touching him. He felt his eyes widened in alarm, but before he could react she let go and stepped back. He looked down and saw a simple golden band with some worrying encryptions encircling his wrist.

“The other one,” she said, looking at him expectedly.

“What…” Crowley tried to step away but Aziraphale was still holding onto his arm. “What is that?”

“Your other wrist, demon,” Michael demanded in exasperation.

“No,” Crowley hissed, pulling harder. “No, I don’t -“

“Aziraphale,” Michael interrupted, sounding bored. “If you wouldn’t mind…”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley around his waist, pinning his encircled hand to his side and holding the sword against his throat. It all happened so quickly Crowley barely had the chance to blink. How could fluffy, soft Aziraphale move so quickly?

“My dear, please be so kind as to offer Michael your wrist, otherwise i'm afraid I really will need to hurt you.”

Crowley was about two seconds away from having a full blown panic attack, which was ironic considering he had taken the credit for inventing them. He held out his shaking hand, aware he was subjecting himself to something truly horrendous even if he didn’t know what it was yet. 

The moment the second band materialised around his wrist his knees buckled. He felt wrong...weak. He’d never -

“Job done,” Michael took a white silken handkerchief and gave her hands a thorough wiping down. “Stand him up please Aziraphale.”

The arm around his waist tightened momentarily before he was hoisted upright, although the sword was thankfully gone. Michael pressed a single knuckle under his chin and made him lift his unbearably heavy head. “Your wings, please show them to me.”

Crowley felt a stab of panic. “Why?”

She frowned and Crowley flinched. “ _Show.me_ ”

His first instinct was to tell her to go fuck herself, but the smears on the pavement were a strong deterrent. He unfurled his wings, shuddering as he felt his feathers press againstAziraphale’s chest.

“Well at least this one can be persuaded to do as he’s told,” she remarked icily, clearly addressing the other Angel despite looking at Crowley. “You know what to do Aziraphale.”

“Yes Michael. Yes, of course.”

She nodded once and took to the sky.

“Well, that went better than I expected,”Aziraphale said, exhaling loudly.

“Yeah?” Crowley asked, looking over his shoulder.

“She’s not exactly a fan of demons.”

“Michael the demon slayer? No kidding.” he tugged pointedly at Aziraphale arm. “You wanna let me go Angel?”

The angel's arm spasmed as if he’s forgotten he was holding onto Crowley, likely a bloody limpet. “Do you promise not to try to escape if I do?”

“Cross my heart,” Crowley said, completely deadpan.

The Angel hesitated. “I really do mean it, my dear. If you try to run I will need to stop you.”

“For hell sake Angel, I already said I wouldn’t run. Let me go!”

Aziraphale loosened his hold. Crowley turned around, brushed down his dishevelled clothes and bolted. He managed to take flight before the dumbfounded Angel could catch him.


	2. Chapter 2

The angel was a fool. Despite his many years on Earth he was still too trusting and naive. When Crowley broke free, the principality didn’t sensibly try to smite him; instead, he chased after the demon with an indignant squawk, moving towards him at speed.

Crowly felt mildly impressed as he twisted in the air, barely avoiding the angel’s grasp. He may have been without rank, arguably he had little power, but Crowley was an agile and quick flyer. He could lose the angel, providing he could put some distance between them.

He wasn’t expecting the principality to throw the sword at him; he flew back in shock, giving the angel ample opportunity to act. Crowley cried out in equal measures of panic and pain when he and the angel collided. They grappled as they fell and the demon realised with a pang of terror that when they hit the ground it was going to really hurt - possibly badly enough to discorporate him. He couldn’t go below, not after what he had done. _Not yet._

“Stop,” he gasped, going limp as the angel wrapped his arms around Crowley's chest and hoisted him into the air. The demon pushed his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder, shuddering as he felt gentle fingers run through his hair.

“Oh, you silly thing,” the angel murmured, his tone painfully gentle. “What did you hope to achieve?”

“I didn’t expect you to throw a bloody sword at me,” Crowley hissed, shaking his wings irritably.

“I wasn’t trying to hit you,” the angel said primly. He side-eyed Crowley warily. “Are you going to try that again?”

“What if I do?”

Aziraphale sighed, tightening his grip around Crowley’s waist. “Even if you did somehow manage to escape, do you truly think Michael would let you go?”

“She won’t ever find me. I’ll stay hidden; I’m good at that.”

“My dear boy, if you were found once you’ll be found again. You don’t have a side anymore. You’re...well, you’re utterly friendless. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go.”

“Why do you even care?” Crowley asked, stumbling a little when they hit the ground. The angel was still holding him. It was raining and cold and Aziraphale was shockingly warm - Crowley didn’t even attempt to try and push him away.

The angel blinked up at him, seemingly realising how close they were. “I know you, Crowley. I’ve watched you over the years. You don’t deserve…” he shook his head, transferring his grip to the demons bicep. He led them to his fallen sword, picking it up with a huff before placing it in the gilded sheath on his hip. “You don’t deserve to be sent to hell for trying to help people.”

“All in my own interest,” he muttered, grunting when Aziraphale curled his arm around his chest and pulled him close again. “It’s not like anyone else was going to do anything.”

The angel frowned unhappily. “And look where it got you.”

“It might have gone differently if I’d had help.”

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t have made a difference, my dear. The war was supposed to happen - it’s part of the great plan,” he ruffled his feathers, clearly agitated. “Now please don’t try to escape again, otherwise I’ll be forced to hurt you and I’m quite sure neither of us want that,” the angel warned, taking to the air and dragging Crowley with him.

The demon allowed Aziraphale to bear his weight without protest. The truth was, now that the shock was begining to wear off, he was really starting to feel the cold - in fact, as the icy wind tore into him - he realised he was freezing. At least being so close to the angel provided some much-needed warmth.

“We’ll arrive at the sanctuary soon,” Aziraphale said in that soft, kind way of his. He thankfully ignored the way Crowley clung to him, his gaze fixed ahead as he presumably looked for potential threats.

Crowley was only a little surprised when they landed outside the bookstore. _Of course_ Aziraphale would still reside in the shop, it was his pride and joy after all. The angel took his arm in a loose hold, leading him inside and up a short flight of stairs. They entered a little flat that looked like it belonged to a ninety-year-old granny.

“Sit down, dear boy, before you fall over,” the angel said, giving him a small push towards the settee. Grumbling at being told what to do, Crowley did, in fact, decide to sit down ( _collapse)_ on the antique piece of furniture.

He listened to Aziraphale tinker around the kitchen, trying very hard not to curl up and go to sleep. He was still shivering rather excessively - he clicked his fingers, calling forth a tiny miracle to warm himself up.

“What?” he uttered, mystified when nothing happened. He tried again. _Nothing_.

He looked down at his wrists, realising the terrifying truth. “No,” he whispered, attempting to grip the bands and tear them off. He felt a dawning horror when his fingers just sort of slid over them. It felt like they were embedded into his skin.

He jumped when the kettle whistled merrily in the background, startling him from his musing as Aziraphale placed a little tray of biscuits directly in front of him. “Help yourself,” he coaxed, sparing a quick look at the Crowley before returning to his tea. “You don’t look very well, dearest. When was the last time you rested?”

“You said it yourself,” Crowley said, raising his knees to his chest to try and conserve heat. “I’m friendless, angel, which isn’t exactly constructive to a restful nights sleep.”

Aziraphale tutted, placing a little silver tea tray beside the biscuits and plopping down next to him on the settee. “How do you take your tea?” he asked, clearly intent on his task.

Crowley was about to instinctively refuse when he reconsidered. If nothing else the tea would be warm. “It’s fine as it is.”

“Do you want milk?”

“No.”

Aziraphale looked like someone had slapped him. “What, none at all?”

“None at all,” Crowley agreed, reaching out to take a dainty little china teacup. He gripped it in both hands, enjoying the meagre heat it provided.

The angel hummed, sipping his tea. “You’re shivering,” he observed, sounding concerned. He reached out and pressed his hand against Crowley’s sleeve. “My dear boy, you’re soaked.”

“We were outside, whilst it was raining,” Crowley pointed out, too tired to sound properly pissy. “You’re soaked too.”

Aziraphale looked at his own sleeve, seemingly amazed. “My goodness, so I am. I had no idea.”

“I don’t appear to be able to dry myself,” Crowley noted darkly.

The angel tutted and snapped his fingers. Crowley was engulfed in a perfect moment of warmth before he found a blanked dumped on his lap.

“There we are,” the angel declared happily. “You’re all nice, dry and warm.”

“Thank you,” Crowley grumbled.

The angel paused, smiling with a pleased little tilt of his lips. “You’re very welcome, dear.”

“And these?” Crowley asked, raising his wrists questioningly.

“You can’t really be that surprised?” Aziraphale said, suddenly looking distinctly uncomfortable. “You’re dangerous.”

“Am I?” It was news to him. Crowley wasn’t exactly considered a threat to most celestial beings - he’d long ago accepted he wasn’t much of a fighter - his strengths lay in his ability to talk his way out of most things, that and the fact that his superiors were mostly idiots.

“I feel like it’s only right I tell you what you’re doing here,” Aziraphale said, placing his hands primly in his lap. “My side, well we’ve decided…” he broke off, clearing his throat and pointedly averting her gaze. “Well, it’s been decided -”

“Come on Angel, out with it,” Crowley demanded, his anxiety skyrocketing.

“Indebted servitude,” he blurted out. “For the more amenable among you.”

Despite himself Crowley spat out a disbelieving laugh. “Slavery, seriously angel?”

Aziraphale straightened, brushing down his trousers. “It’s all perfectly legitimate. The good book -“

“You what?” Crowley snarled. “You’re seriously going to cite a human-written book filled with nonsense and use it as an excuse to enslave us? Is your side really so blinded to what’s right and wrong?”

“I hardly need a lecture on the matter from a demon,” Aziraphale scoffed.

“This is wrong, and you know it.”

The angel wrung his hands, clearly upset. “I seem to recall that you enjoy sleeping. I can’t help but imagine some rest would do you good,” he gestured to the other room. “You can use my bedroom. Take as much time as you need.”

“Feels like you’re sending me to my room for being bad,” Crowley grumbled, but he got up anyway. Honestly, he really was extraordinarily tired. He walked to the room, idly clawing at the shackles.

“Sweet dreams, my dear.”

Crowley snorted and made sure to use all of his strength to slam close the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley really was exceptionally tired. If he wanted to he could sleep for literal years, so the four days he was permitted felt like a small nap in comparison to what he actually wanted.

It was incredibly disconcerting being gently shaken awake, and by an Angel of all things. He wasn’t in his own bed and when he opened his eyes all he could make out was the looming presence of a celestial.

“ _Get back_!” he cried, panicking as he scrambled to find some purchase and practically fell out of the other side of the bed. if he wasn’t so terrified he’d feel mortified.

“My dear boy, please calm down. It’s only me.”

Oh yeah, Aziraphale. He was in Aziraphale’s home - the bookshop. He looked miserably down at the golden bands around his wrists and back up at the angel.

“You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack,” he snapped, trying to cover up his fear with anger. “What do you want?”

AZiraphale was looking increasingly nervous. He fussed around the room, straightening the sheets and looking generally quite jittery. “I’m afraid I’ve been rather remiss in preparing you for your new role among us.”

 _That can’t be good_ , Crowley thought with a sinking feeling in his chest. “What does that mean?”

“Well, you see, the Archangel’s are rather keen that the new hierarchy is implemented as quickly and as smoothly as possible. What with you being one of the first, they’re rather invested in your ongoing progress.”

Crowley gave the angel a blank stare.

“Gabriel is coming,” Aziraphale blurted, standing up and brushing down his trousers. “And instead of instructing you as I should have been, I’ve been allowing you to sleep. I mean, you looked so peaceful and you clearly needed the rest. I just imagined I’d have more time -“

They both froze when the little bell sounded downstairs, indicating someone had entered the shop. Crowley stumbled back, very certain he did not want to be confronted by Gabriel, particularly when he was powerless and trapped in a very small space.

“Please Crowley, don’t do or say anything rash. Gabriel - he can be quite...forceful.”

So saying, Aziraphale cornered Crowley and gently took hold of his wrist, just above the band. He tugged but Crowley planted his feet.

“Please my dear,” Azirpahle said - begged really. “He won’t stay long - just play your part and all will be fine.”

He wanted to tell the angel to fuck off. He wanted to spit and swear and hiss, but then quite suddenly Gabriel was standing in the hallway, flashing that bright, false smile of his as he entered the already cramped space. His eyes flickered to the unmade bed, to Crowley’s presumably sleep-mussed hair before settling on Aziraphale.

“Hello Aziraphale,” the Archangel said, smiling brightly.

Crowley though he looked like a shark when he smiled - all teeth and dead violet eyes. He shivered and averted his gaze.

“Ah Gabriel, such a lovely surprise. Can I offer you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” the archangel said, clearly disgusted at the very idea of sullying his holy temple. Fucking angels - too good to partake in all the wonders the world had to offer. No wonder they decided to burn it all to the ground.

He clapped his hands together, causing Crowley to startle. It was such a bizarre situation - Crowley hadn’t seen Gabriel since the fall. He shouldn’t be facing an Archangel - he was just a temptation demon - no one really.

“And our little serpent, is he behaving?”

Crowley instinctively looked up, glaring. “ ‘m not a bloody dog,” he mumbled, immediately regretting it when Gabriel’s expression hardened and he stepped more fully into the room.

 _Trapped_ , Crowley’s mind screamed. He attempted to stumble back but there was nowhere to go.

“Well Aziraphale?” the archangel asked, addressing the principality directly. “How have you been progressing?”

It was probably for the best that he was being ignored. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really want Gabriel’s attention. What he wanted to do was shift into his snake form and hide under a rock.

“It’s all going splendidly, of course,” Aziraphale piped up, stepping forward until he was partially blocking Crowley from view. “He’s been a little out of sorts because of the manacles, but he’s adapting admirably.”

Gabriel peered around Gabriel and locked his eyes on the demon. “Has he shown any violent tendencies?”

Crowley swallowed and shifted a little until he was hiding behind the principality again. He was beyond caring if he looked cowardly - Gabriel was an Archangel - even with his powers intact Crowley would have been laughingly outmatched.

Aziraphale turned around, his expression softening when he realised Crowley was almost directly behind him, “None at all. In fact, he hasn’t shown the slight inclination in fighting back. I rather think he’s not made for violence.”

“He’s a demon,” Gabriel scoffed. “All they want to do is hurt people.”

“Well, that may be true for some of them, but it doesn’t appear to be the case as far as this particular demon is concerned.”

“You’ve been letting him sleep,” Gabriel noted, changing the subject. “I hope you’re not being to soft with him.”

“As I said, the manacles are causing some fatigue. I thought it prudent to let him rest before we moved onto the more advanced stages of his initiation.”

“Crowley,” Gabriel said, addressing him directly for the first time. “Come here.”

He didn’t move. He felt like his feet were cemented to the floor - he in no way, shape or form wanted to be anywhere near the Archangel.

“I said come here,” the archangel said in the sort of quiet, dangerous tone of voice that suggested he was moments away from violence.

Crowley had a pretty good sense of self preservation - it was one of the reasons he was still around despite the questionable company he used to keep. He knew when he was fighting a losing battle. Gabriel was going to make him do whatever he wanted - the only question was how much he would hurt Crowley before he got what he wanted.

He stepped forward slowly, feeling a growing sense of dread when he passed Aziraphale and there was no longer anything standing between him and the Archangel.

Approaching him was hard, but Crowley figured Gabriel didn’t need proximity to hurt him. He steeled himself, stopping forward until there was only a few feet separating them.

“Been a while since I last set eyes on you,” the Archangel remarked, reaching out and gripping Crowley’s chin in a bruising hold. They were of a similar height, Crowley noticed vaguely. He met the his violet eyes and instinctively tried to step back.

“ _Ah-ah_ , none of that,” Gabriel admonished gently, his harsh grip a stark contrast compared to his tone. His eyes travelled slowly over Crowley's face, his frown slowly becoming more pronounced. “Temptation demons,” he scoffed, leaning closer until their noses were almost touching. “Is that how you survived this long, demon, by rolling over?”

Crowley instinctively grabbed Gabriel’s arm in an attempt to reduce some of the pressure on his jaw. He released a pained hiss when Gabriel dug his fingers in harder in response.

“You...ah, you appear to be hindering his ability to respond,” Aziraphale piped up, only visible in Crowley’s peripherals. “Perhaps, if you let him go, you might be able to better question him.”

Gabriel sneered before pushing Crowley away with enough force to knock him on his arse. The demon released a pained grunt before scooting backwards. He needed to get away from the Archangel - there was something definitely not right about him.

“No need, I’m done here,” Gabriel announced pleasantly. He stepped forward, basically walking over Crowley as he exited the room. “I’ll be back in a few weeks Azirpahle, to check on his progress. Any issues, please don’t hesitate to contact one of our agents.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Azirpahle sputtered, following after the Archangel. “And thank you for your time. I appreciate how busy you must be, what with the ongoing invasion…”

Their voices trailed off. Crowley heard the bell ring above the shop door. Presumably it was Gabriel leaving. He stayed on the floor, his whole body shaking as he tried to calm his beating, too human heart.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called as he made his way back up the stairs. “My dear boy, are you quite all right?”

Crowley could only imagine how pathetic he must have looked, staring up at the angel with large, moist eyes. “ _Why_ -“ he broke off, flinching back when Azirpahle reached for him.

“Oh, my dear, please don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you.”

Like he could trust the angel, especially when he was powerless and locked inside with him. “Why are you doing this to me?” he whispered. He didn’t know who was more shocked, him or the angel.

“Dearest, you’re...well you’re a demon. Responsible for original sin and all that. And I mean, you did try to stop the Great War. Surely you realised you wouldn’t get away with it?”

“Which part?” Crowley demanded, wishing dearly for his glasses so he could at least mask his eyes. “For falling, for convincing a curious girl to eat an apple or for trying to avoid the _death of billions_?”

Aziraphale looked quite taken aback. “Of course not! I mean...you're twisting my words. You’re a tempter and a-a liar.”

“And you’re a bastard,” Crowley said, spitting on the angels shoes. He felt a little weary when he saw the furious look on his face.

_Maybe I shouldn’t have done that._


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re acting as if this is somehow my fault, as though it’s my doing.”

Crowley puffed himself up - a little snake trying to appear bigger and more dangerous than he actually was. “Oh come off it, angel. You’re hardly the bloody victim here.”

“Oh, because _obviously_ I wanted to be burdened with the responsibility of having to care for an infamous demon, one foolish enough to try to take on the collective power of heaven and hell! Really Crowley, I would have been much happier left to my own devices, thank you very much.”

“Well you seem to have got the sweeter end of the fucking deal,” Crowley bellowed, his hands clenched into fists. “You know Azirpahale, if you wanted the opportunity to own me you could have just asked,” Crowley forced himself to leer meaningfully. He event went for a salacious bottom lip lick. “We could have worked something out. You didn’t have to bloody enslave me.”

The angel gasped, horrified. “I didn’t - I would never!”

“Yeah? ‘Cause that’s what it looks like!”

“Now hold on a moment,” the angel said, stuffy but with a definite note of anger. He paused, visibly collecting himself. “I have some things to say and... well, I intend to do so.”

“Oh, of course _master_ ,” Crowley sniped. He performed a mocking bow. “Anything you say, _Master_.”

“S-so training,” the angel gestured weakly towards Crowley, clearly nervous. “I think we need to have a discussion, don’t you?”

“No,” Crowley answered simply, taking the opportunity to examine his nails. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Aziraphale looked highly put out. His mouth opening in a little O as he clearly struggled to take control of the situation. “I wasn’t actually asking, dear boy. I’ve let this go on long enough -“ he took Crowley by his elbow, his grip bordering on painful, and led him to another room that housed a set of chairs he had clearly set up beforehand. “If you’d be so kind as to take a seat.”

He applied gentle pressure until Crowley gave in and sat down. Aziraphale sat opposite and proceeded to stare at him.

Crowley considered his immediate options. Even if he possessed his powers he didn’t stand a chance against the angel. Azirpahle didn’t seem particularly dangerous, but then he didn’t seem the sort of angel to start flinging swords at people either - guess you couldn’t judge a book by its cover.

“I appreciate this isn't ideal,” the angel began softly. “But I’m afraid it’s unavoidable. The world has changed and we must adapt.”

“Because angels are known for adapting,” Crowley drawled.

Aziraphale’s eyelid twitched but he refrained from reacting beyond offering a tight smile. “You...belong to me now. I know very well how that sounds, but that’s simply the way it is,” the angel folded his hands primly over his stomach, talking over Crowley’s protests. “The truth is neither of us have any say in matter. We’ll just have to try and make the best of it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Crowey scoffed furiously. “You’re the one with all the control - all of the power.”

Aziraphale had the decency to deflate a little. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant. If you abide by my rules, obey and refrain from succumbing to your more...undesirable demonic impulses - well, I’m sure we’ll get along just admirably. We were...well not friends before, obviously, but we had a cordial enough relationship. I know deep down that you’re unique, for a demon.”

Crowley stared at him. He blinked slowly, at an utter loss, and stared at him some more. Without much thought he stood up. Aziraphale immediately scrambled to his feet.

“I can’t do thissss,” Crowley whispered, shaking his head and retreating. “Thissss is wrong. _You can’t do this_.”

“Now hold on a moment,” the angel said, palms outstretched as he followed Crowley. “I’ve just told you I won’t hurt you unless you give me reason to. Your life here will be quite comfortable, I assure you.” One of his hands crept up to tug on a fluffy white curl. “Please, dear boy. Your fear is misplaced. I promise you -“

“Don’t touch me,” Crowley snarled, shoving the angel hard in the chest when he got too close.

They both paused, at a crossroad. Azirpahale’s expression morphed from weary to resigned.

Crowley bolted. He barely made it to the next room before the angel caught his shoulder and pulled him back. “Get off,” Crowley cried.

He was dragged kicking and screaming back to the small bedroom. The angel pushed him on the bed and miracled a gilded cane. Crowley went very still.

”I don’t want to hurt you,” the angel said, desperate and wretched.

 _That makes two of us_ , Crowley thought miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale POV next chapter :)


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale made sure the cane hit the bed frame with a shocking amount of force, the resounding clang causing the demon to startle. He looked up warily, his large golden eyes locked on the angel's raised hand.

“I don't want to, but don’t think I won’t,” Azirpahale warned, hoping the demon would assume he was trembling from anger and not gut-clenching dread. He’d never been keen on hurting anyone, particularly not someone like Crowley, who despite his demonic nature had proven time and again that he had a shockingly gentle nature. 

It put him in mind of punching a particularly harmless puppy.

The demon's eyes narrowed to slits, his mouth morphing into a thin line. “Go on then,” he goaded. “Hit me.”

Perhaps a hissing cat was a better analogy.

Oh dear. Aziraphlae had rather hoped the threat would do the trick. Silly of him really. He was dealing with a demon from hell - a cane was hardly going to deter him.

He took a calculated risk, worried that Crowley would call his bluff a second time - really though, there was nothing for it. He placed a powerful blessing over the tip of the cane. 

“What are you doing?” The demon squeaked, backing away until he was pressed against the opposite wall. “Are you inssssane? Put that away!” He made a wild, flapping gesture with his hands, the hiss in his voice more pronounced than usual.

Hardening his heart, Aziraphale took a single step forward.

“Dont,” Crowley gasped, clearly terrified and doing a poor job of hiding it. “For ssssomebody's sssssake, I haven’t even done anything and you’re doing to whip me with a blessssed cane?

“Only if you force my hand,” Aziraphale said in his most prim tone of voice. “Now, can we have an adult conversation, or are you going to continue having a tantrum?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Crowley’s eyes flashed again. Thankfully he appeared frightened enough of the cane that he very quickly deflated. “Put that thing away,” he snarled between gritted teeth. “And I’ll do whatever the hell you want.”

With a sweep of his hand Azirpahlae made the cane disappear. He looked questioning at Crowley, his hand outstretched. 

The demon placed a trembling hand in Azirpaphale’s palm - Crowley’s long, thin fingers were a strong contrast compared to his much wider digits - and allowed himself to be directed back to his chair. He continued to shudder as Aziraphale walked around him. “I suppose we’d better start from the beginning. Your side - or should I say the demons - are losing. Inevitable really.”

Crowley was looking very hard at his lap. Aziraphale continued anyway. “For many of you there can be no redemption. But for a select few - well, you have the opportunity to repent. To see the light.”

Crowley scoffed. “You're about five thousand years too late, love.”

“This isn’t a joke, Crowley,” he stepped into the demon's space, gently but firmly gripping the demon's chin and tilting his face up. “Now listen carefully and mind my words. This is your last chance. Fight and you will be obliterated completely. Submit and you’ll be spared. Your options are quite limited, I’m afraid.”

Crowley’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I have no intention of fighting,” he averted his gaze. “I just want to leave.”

Aziraphale felt a spike of sympathy and allowed his expression to soften very slightly. “I know that, my dear but unfortunately the higher ups aren’t doing to take your word for it. Left to your own devices you pose a risk.”

Crowley huffed lightly. “Some threat,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He pulled his face free from Aziraphale’s gentle grip, suddenly quite interested in his lap. “So what’s going to happen to me now?”

“We’ll start easy - small things. You’ll do some chores for me,” he paused, uncomfortable. “Do you, ugh, have any particular talents?”

Crowley looked up at that, arching a single eyebrow.

Azirpahlae felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. He sat up straighter and coughed lightly. “Come now, there must be something you excel at.”

“I’m very good at getting drunk,” the serpent grinned widely. “I’m told I give excellent head.”

Aziraphale realised his mouth was hanging open and quickly pursed his lips. “You won’t shock me, Crowley.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t trying to.”

“We’ll explore your skill set another day,” Aziraphale said evenly. “Have you ever served in a human court?” 

“A few times, why?”

“Do you know how to bow?”

The serpent's eyes flashed. “I’m not bowing to you angel.”

Aziraphale crossed his arms over his chest. “My superiors will expect a certain level of capitulation, dear boy.”

“What are you going to do if I refuse, hit me with your blessed cain?”

Aziraphale forced himself to take a deep, even breath. “You think I’m a monster.”

“You have been acting pretty monstrously,” Crowley hissed, squirming in his chair despite   
His obvious desire to appear aloof and unaffected. 

“Shall I give you to one of the others then?” he asked.

The demon blinked up at him.

“If I’m so terrible, shall I give you to another? Perhaps Gabriel?”

Crowley flashed a pair of sharp canines at him. “You really are a bastard.”

“Perhaps I am,” he agreed. “Now stand up. It’s time to practice.”


End file.
